My relationship with cats have been upside-down for my whole life.
At 6 years old, my neighbor's cat named Maurice scratched my hand. A long scratch from my wrist to my finger. I could still see the mark until this day.
At nearly 7 years old, we moved to Indonesia. We got a cat named Udin. I don't really remember what do we love about him, but I still remember the day of his funeral. We made a little tomb of a brick, and we buried him in our garden, between two trees.
At 10 years old, we moved into a new house. Now we have dogs as our pet and guardian. So bye bye cats.
I never really thought about cat until this morning.
Yesterday, when I go home, there was a cat at the front of my door.
Because I'm not a cat person, I just look at his face then go into my house.
This morning, on the way to the church, I said to my boyfriend "I saw a cat at the front of door yesterday."
He: "Then?What did the cat do?"
Me: "Nothing. It was just sitting there."
He: "Okay. It doesn't matter then"
Near my house, there is an office home building called Merah (means Red).
In my mind Red is associated with blood.
And believe me, you don't want to see what i saw at 6 AM this morning.
At the front of this house, we saw a cat lying in a pool of blood.
And it was still breathing, gushing blood from its mouth.
It's really a heartbreaking view (and disgusting).
I lost my appetite, I can't cook.
Something strange happens when I open my front door while I'm preparing myself to go to the office at 8 AM.
The yesterday cat is there.
This time, he meows at me.
I could feel the goosebumps on my neck.
Yes, I know it's another cat, not the run over cat.
But still, Dear Cat, could you pick another time before showing up at my front door...?
Anyway, this note is dedicated for the run over cat. Rest in peace.
